


got me good

by mujatuan



Series: bad habit [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Derogatory Language, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Fantasizing, Humiliation, Hyung Kink, M/M, Mark Top, Masturbation, No actual sex, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mujatuan/pseuds/mujatuan
Summary: jaebeom can't stop getting off to the thought of mark absolutely wrecking him.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Mark Tuan
Series: bad habit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574281
Comments: 13
Kudos: 189





	got me good

**Author's Note:**

> MARK TOP JAEBEOM TWINK

jaebeom isn’t sure when it first started. those kinds of details eventually become sort of a blur, especially when he’s spending most of his days with mark and the rest of them anyways. he’s learned to hide it over the weeks, months, god knows how long. but alas, it still keeps him up at night, in more ways than imaginable.

mark has always been able to get aggressive, something that jaebeom has known ever since their first argument. the fans, for some reason, rather liked to paint him as somebody softer, quieter, sweeter. and while at first mark was closed in, jaebeom got to see how he slowly opened up, became the person he is today.

more commanding. more assertive. more _dominant._

fuck. the word makes jaebeom’s legs go weak, and he tries to keep most of his weight on the couch. they’re all in the waiting room, ready to go on comeback stage in twenty minutes. he looks to his left- mark is sitting across the room, arms crossed and staring at jackson, who had left his phone at home and had consequently taken mark’s temporarily.

at least, it was supposed to be temporary. jackson’s still making faces and taking selfies with all filters imaginable to mankind. bambam is beside him, generally his selfie partner in crime. the rest of them are scattered around, talking to stylists, eating snacks, but jaebeom’s attention always goes back to mark.

he looks annoyed. not angry, but just annoyed. his eyebrows are a little bit furrowed, just barely visible under his curly bangs. his eyes are dark. he’s biting at the corner of his lip and his jaw is clenched. if he squints, jaebeom can see the veins on mark’s hand and arms.

it’s so fucking hot, and jaebeom hates himself for thinking so. he feels his throat dry up.

but mark isn’t looking at him. he’s still shooting sharp looks at jackson, who has put up a peace sign right beside his cheek. it’s been what, ten minutes? fifteen? since jackson has taken it. not that long, jaebeom thinks.

mark believes differently. “gaga,” he says, voice steady but gritty and low, “give me my phone back, please.”

jaebeom grips onto the arms of the couch. his hands feel cold, skin prickled and fingers locked up, but they’re sweaty and slippery against the leather material.

jackson tears his eyes away from the screen and pouts. “i’m almost done! pleaaase just five more-”

“jackson,” mark says, and his voice is stone cold, “now.”

jaebeom feels the room go hot, and there’s familiar warmth rushing south. _please. not here._

as jackson hands the phone back to mark, grumbling, mark takes it and puts it back in his pocket. _he didn’t even need to use it._ jaebeom feels destroyed.

then youngjae- sweet, caring youngjae- walks up to him from the corner of his eye and pokes his shoulder. “hyung, are you okay? you look…”

he glances at mark, who’s looking away so jaebeom can see his perfect side profile, his sharp jaw, his piercings, everything.

jaebeom doesn’t let him finish. “i’m fine,” jaebeom says, trying his best not to choke up.

he’s not. he’s really not.

* * *

the stage was a success. after performing encore and waving goodbye, they had given their manager the trophy and boarded onto the van. 

jaebeom feels refreshed. the weather isn’t bad, a bit less cruel than the other winter days had been, so he welcomes the air with deep breaths. he gets on last, sitting in the passenger's seat beside the manager, and they drive away from the crowds of fans.

he looks at the rear view mirror and sees the rest of them fooling around. jackson has his arms wrapped around jinyoung - not a surprise - and jinyoung’s laughing along?- actually a surprise. youngjae, bambam, and yugyeom are invested in a game of charades, with youngjae holding the phone upside down on his forehead.

then there’s mark. he’s sitting with his head against the window, looking out onto the road. there’s a soft smile on his face. jaebeom stares at his lips, his nose, his cheekbones.

mark looks up at him. for a second, mark's gaze feels as sharp as a knife, boring into him. then, jaebeom looks away, feeling his face go hot. he doesn’t look back again for the rest of the ride- instead keeps his hands on his lap, playing with his rings.

when they do get off, all at the company building for a quick lunch party, jaebeom gets out first and slides the back doors open. he does a quick head count, up to four children and a jinyoung, and then mark is standing in front of him with his lips bitten red.

“beom-ah, you did well,” mark says, just a little bit teasingly, and he follows the rest of them into the large glass doors.

_beom-ah._ jaebeom feels himself freeze up. _you did well,_ he repeats in his mind, and his movements are stiff as he walks up the steps to the building.

_but not well enough,_ jaebeom imagines mark saying. 

* * *

he doesn’t end up driving back to his apartment. his studio is closer, so he grinds his teeth against each other and bites the inside of his cheek as he pulls into the building’s driveway. 

he feels dizzy as he gets out and locks the car, eyelids feeling heavy. the red iron door leading into the entrance of his studio creaks, as it always does, but the sound scratches the edges of jaebeom’s ears. he’s pent up, shoulders tight and legs weightless. thinking about him.

he throws his bag onto the couch and swerves right, into the dimly lit room full of polaroids on the walls and old notebooks filled up with songs. he almost throws himself onto the chair, falling back with enough force to push it rolling backwards.

he needs this. it hasn’t been a long time, but the hours seem to stretch on longer and longer every time he performs. with mark.

it’s all because of mark. jaebeom sits himself up in his chair and throws one of his legs over the arms, hands wandering around his thigh. he drags upwards, thumbing at his waistbands, hooking a finger underneath and tugging them down.

jaebeom thinks back to their stage a few days ago. mark in a crop top and leather jacket, body covered in rings and metal chains, draped across his chest. jaebeom feels over his bulge, presses his palm flat against his soft cock and it’s _so nice,_ so good to finally relax. with one more slip of his hand, he tugs his cock out of his underwear and reaches for the lube in his drawers.

it’s so ridiculous, how all he needs to get going is the thought of mark. 

but wouldn’t it be amazing? if mark had his lips pressed right up by jaebeom’s neck, feeling over the muscles on his chest. he wonders how rough he would be, if he would pinch at his nipples or bruise his hips. 

“please,” jaebeom whispers, and it becomes harder to keep his eyes open. the room gets hot. hot, hot, hot. “hyung.”

his eyes close, and it’s like mark is right in front of him, holding him around the neck and perched on his lap. _getting off to your hyung?_ mark would say, pressing him up against the back of the chair. _so dirty. disgusting._

his hand tightens around his cock. jaebeom whimpers, tries to keep the sounds in his mouth as he feels the sticky lube between his fingers. he imagines mark jerking him off instead, his pretty hands working up and down his thick cock, running one finger down his length to play with his hole. _what about all fans that think you’re a big, bad wolf, beommie? when you’re really just hyung’s dumb pup?_

jaebeom moves his other hand down from his nipple out to his thighs. “hyung, please,” he whines, dragging his nails across his skin. he’s desperate, so desperate, craves more and more of what he doesn’t have.

mark would lean forward, press only the tip of his finger into jaebeom - jaebeom does so, loves the feeling of the burn that is sent right up his cock- maybe bite at his ear. _god,_ jaebeom would love that. mark, sucking hickies onto his neck and licking across his jawline, whispering _such a sweet boy, my pretty baby,_ as jaebeom cries and cries and cries.

“i’m good, i’m good,” jaebeom mewls, but he wants to be bad. he wants mark to call him bad, naughty, bratty, selfish, wants mark to do so many things. spit in his mouth. cum on his face. he strokes himself, quicker and quicker, until there’s no rhythm and only lust flooding his senses. jaebeom thinks, this is how he was meant to be. his mind is clogged up in mark, his body, his speech, him. 

jaebeom presses his finger in more, more, until it’s up to the knuckle and his ass is clenching tight. his cock is red, swollen, dripping in lube and precum and he feels wrecked already. his tongue hangs out of his mouth and his eyes are screwed shut, thinking of mark saying _poor puppy, you have such a big cock but you don’t even know how to use it._

he’s right. mark always is- hyung always is, always saying the best things when jaebeom can’t think straight. he muffles himself by biting onto the collar of his shirt, feeling his saliva drip out of his mouth in slow, thin streaks of stickiness. he feels so empty, even with his mouth gagged up and his fingers pushing into his asshole. 

_of course you do_ , he imagines mark cooing. _little cum slut can’t go a minute without a cock in him._

cum slut. jaebeom feels himself leaking precum all over his palm. he pumps his fingers in and out, listening to the familiar squelches, and _oh_ there’s the electricity that he craves so badly. pumping through his veins. spiking up his back, right to his wet lips.

mark would sneer. _you like it when i call you that? cum dump. my whore. you like begging for my cock, too? want to suck on it?_

“yes, yes, please,” jaebeom mumbles to himself only, teeth gripping onto his shirt as his tongue goes limp. he wants it. wants mark’s thick cock on his tongue, sliding in and out his throat, using him as a cocksleeve. 

god, that’d be hot. jaebeom wants mark to drag him anywhere and pull his pants down, shove his cock down his mouth like that’s all jaebeom was meant to do. _get on your knees_ , mark would say to him, deep and dark and so, so hot.

jaebeom would. he’d do anything. sit with his hands on his lap and wait for mark to tell him what to do, or to tell him nothing at all and laugh as he sits there, silent. 

better yet, mark tugging on his hair as jaebeom chokes on his cock. he wonders if mark likes it clean and organized or dirty, wet and sloppy. if he’d let jaebeom lick him once, twice, three times, before he gets impatient and forces his entire cock past his lips.

_you’d like anything i give you._ he’s right, so right. always. _i bet if i spit on your face you’d cum instantly, right?_

that’s a thought there, mark spitting on his face, maybe squeezing the sides of jaebeom’s cheeks so he opens his mouth. “fuck me, please,” he begs, absolutely wrecked and desperate and everything mark wanted him to be. he pushes his fingers in farther, faster, massages over his walls and feels the comforting shocks of pleasure throb along his body. 

_wouldn’t that be cute,_ mark would sigh. _me pounding your tight hole with my cock. does that turn you on, baby? of course it does,_ and jaebeom whimpers, wishes that mark was there to drag his fingers across jaebeom’s jawline and slap his face. _my little cockwhore. cum for your hyung, beom-ah._

jaebeom cums, with a moan of mark’s name lost in the soundproof walls of the studio. he feels like he’s on fire, ropes of sticky, thick white all over his own chest, his hand, his stomach. jaebeom can’t help but wish it was mark’s instead, marking him up and claiming him.

_oh,_ that’d be so good. so, so good.

like that, his mind goes silent. there’s a blank where his fantasies had once been playing, plain white and jaebeom hears only his own heavy breath. 

it’s not quite the afterglow he wants it to be. 

he feels gross. not so much because he’s sweaty and sticky but more because it’s his best friend he’s fantasizing about, the one that he’s known through thick and thin. yet for some reason, giddiness overcomes the guilt, the eagerness to think _maybe one day._

jaebeom shakes his head. for now, he’ll just clean up and shower- after all, there’s no way mark would really say those things, jaebeom tells himself.

but it doesn’t hurt to imagine.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i was disqualified from no nut november so wahtever fuck it deal with this u lil fdicknuggets  
> i'll write a sequel if this gets 69 kudos but i dont rly wanna write smut bcs my woman boner hurts so can u guys keep it at like 68 or something  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mujatuan)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/mujatuan)  
> 


End file.
